


Prologue: Conditioning

by Snazzy_Suit



Series: Resting Potential [1]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Dexter Grif (mentioned only), Dick Simmons (mentioned only), Gen, Hypnosis, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Sarge (mentioned only), Takes place just after Florida selects the Reds and Blues, but before they arrive at Blood Gulch, command, pre-Blood Gulch Chronicles, season 14, sleeper agent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:56:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12956763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snazzy_Suit/pseuds/Snazzy_Suit
Summary: Agent Florida believed in the Project—believed in The Director—and if the latter thought that hiding the Alpha in the middle of a faux civil war wasn’t enough, then he trusted his judgement. His chosen sim troopers were dim, lazy, and incompetent. Best of all, they were all so verymalleable. The Councilor should have little issue executing The Director’s plan.After all, it was classical conditioning.





	Prologue: Conditioning

Agent Florida was in a good mood.

Well, he was always in a good mood, but today in particular was something special. The Agent had just finished the reviewing process of the candidates to be stationed in Outpost 1/Alpha. There had been a lot of soldiers to sift through—some that came pretty darn close to meeting all the requirements—but the decision in the end had been a simple one.

Lavernius Tucker.

Richard (Dick) Simmons.

Dexter Grif.

Sarge…

That last one was curious. No matter how hard Flowers had looked, he couldn’t find any records that listed the future Red Team leader’s real name. The gruff soldier insisted that ‘Sarge’ was indeed his birth given name, but Agent Florida didn’t buy it. He supposed it didn’t really matter all that much; just reinforced that the sim trooper had a few screws loose, and thus, was the perfect choice for this operation.

The selected Red and Blue simulation soldiers were now on their way to Command. Unbeknownst to them, what awaited the troopers went much deeper than simple reassignment. Flowers almost wished it hadn’t; that it was just another simulated conflict with nothing at stake.

He swiftly quashed any guilt that arose.

Agent Florida believed in the Project—believed in The Director—and if the latter thought that hiding the Alpha in the middle of a faux civil war wasn’t enough, then he trusted his judgement. His chosen sim troopers were dim, lazy, and incompetent. Best of all, they were all so very _malleable_. The Councilor should have little issue executing The Director’s plan.

After all, it was classical conditioning.

 

* * *

 

For one Lavernius Tucker, today was turning out to be the fucking weirdest in a long time. And that was saying something, given that he had been fighting in a dumb, color divided civil war since he left basic.

After a bizarre interview—one that he _still_ didn’t know what was for—Tucker had found himself promptly whisked off to some top secret military base in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere. He thought he might have heard one of the other soldiers call the place Command, but he couldn’t be sure. No one was telling him anything.

If this shit hole was headquarters, Tucker certainly wasn’t impressed. Shouldn’t everything look super high-tech? Shiny, and glowing and all that shit? Instead, the place almost looked like an old warehouse you’d see back on Earth. At least, this part of this base did, anyway. If it wasn’t for all the security cameras, armed soldiers, and UNSC emblems blazoned on every wall, the blue sim trooper would have thought he got taken on a fucking ride.

On second thought, that was still very much a possibility.

Two soldiers clad in steel grey armor led Lavernius through winding halls of barren concrete. Though if you asked Tucker, ‘led’ was not really the proper term. That would imply that your escort was taking point. These men flanked each other at the sim trooper’s back, offering clipped directions whenever the latter paused at an intersection. They were both armed with MA5D Assault Rifles, held at the ready, while Lavernius lacked even a standard pistol.

If Tucker didn’t know any better, he’d think he was a prisoner.

The further they traveled, the dimmer the halls seemed to become. Tucker had thought it to be relatively quiet before, but now—if not for their clanking footsteps—he would have found the silence downright deafening. Any attempts to stir the air with conversation fell flat. A nervous sweat began to bead at the sim trooper’s brow.

Just when Tucker thought he couldn’t take this cryptic nonsense any longer, his impassive guides halted him at a featureless, steel door and ushered him inside.

Lavernius didn’t think it was possible, but the room was darker, and even quieter than the halls leading up to it. It was just as barren, and equally as suffocating. A lone metal table and matching chair shone almost blindingly in the sole source of light hanging centered overhead. Two other soldiers, dressed not unlike the men who brought him here, were stationed at opposite corners along the far wall. A man sat patiently on the other side of the table. Tucker couldn’t discern much except that he wasn’t wearing any armor—the first the former had seen in a while.

“Thank you, Lavernius, for coming all this way to participate in our program,” he inclined his head minutely, “Gentlemen, if you will excuse us.”

Tucker turned just in time to see his chauffeurs duck out and seal the door behind them. He flexed his hands nervously and looked back to his mysterious addresser.

“I, uh…go by Tucker…”

If the man was bothered by the sim trooper’s candid response, he hid it effortlessly.

“Of course, Tucker,” He gestured lightly to the chair across from him, “Please, have a seat. We have much to discuss.”

Lavernius eyed the arrangement warily. It looked like a set out of a shitty buddy cop flick. All that was missing was the two-way mirror—hold up there it was. Tucker hadn’t seen it for all the dramatic shadows darkening the room. Mister Manners must be the good cop, so which of the dudes in the back was the bad cop? Both? It was the military after all.

The simulation soldier suddenly realized he had just been standing there, staring, for a moment longer than what was considered comfortable. He hastily pulled out the chair—wincing as it scraped against the concrete floor—and plopped down with a cough. The setup seemed a bit too small for a fully armored man to sit at comfortably. It took all of Tucker’s will power not to shift and fidget in place.

The man steepled his fingers and leaned forward ever so slightly. Tucker found it odd that the man’s features didn’t seem any more defined up close. The shadows appeared dead set on keeping the guy somewhat obscured. What was he, a cliché cartoon villain?

“Are you feeling alright, Tucker?”

The question caught the sim trooper off guard. Was his discomfort that obvious?

“Uh, fine I guess.” He shrugged, armor rattling faintly. “A little weirded out.”

Shit. He hadn’t meant to say that last part out loud.

“There’s no need to be worried, Private Tucker. I merely want to ask you a few simple questions.”

The man’s voice was soft, gentle even. Lavernius supposed it was meant to be comforting, but he found it just plain eerie.

“Am I being interrogated?” Tucker couldn’t help but ask.

He hated his goddamn mouth.

“Do you feel like you are?”

“…I don’t know.” and he really didn’t.

The strange man hummed at the sim trooper’s uncertainty.

“I assure you, Tucker, that you are not being interrogated. You are not in any trouble.”

Lavernius was suddenly grateful for his helmet. The expressions he must have been making…

“Okay…so why am I here?”

It was hard to tell, but Tucker swore he could see the slightest of smirks on the man’s face.

“All in due time,” the man placated, “But first, the questions.”

He leaned marginally further. The shift in lighting darkened the man’s sockets and hollowed his cheeks.

“Tell me, what do you know about hypnosis?”

 

Weirdest. Fucking. Day.

 

**Author's Note:**

> A bit short, but it is a prologue in all fairness. 
> 
> Onward to the next part!


End file.
